I. THERE was a Boy; ye knew him well, ye Cliff's At evening, when the earliest stars began Blew mimic hootings to the silent owls That they might answer him.-And they would shout And long halloos, and screams, and echoes loud Of mirth and jocund din! And, when it chanced That pauses of deep silence mocked his skill, Has carried far into his heart the voice Of mountain torrents; or the visible scene With all its solemn imagery, its rocks, Its woods, and that uncertain heaven, received This Boy was taken from his Mates, and died And there, along that bank, when I have passed At evening, I believe, that oftentimes A long half-hour together I have stood Mute-looking at the grave in which he lies! II. TO THE CUCKOO. O BLITHE New-comer! I have heard, I hear thee and rejoice: O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird, Or but a wandering Voice? . While I am lying on the grass, I hear thee babbling to the Vale Of sunshine and of flowers; And unto me thou bring'st a tale Of visionary hours. Thrice welcome, Darling of the Spring! Even yet thou art to me No Bird; but an invisible Thing, A voice, a mystery. The same whom in my School-boy days I listen'd to; that Cry Which made me look a thousand ways; In bush, and tree, and sky. To seek thee did I often rove And I can listen to thee yet; Can lie upon the plain And listen, till I do beget That golden time again. O blessed Bird! the earth we pace Again appears to be An unsubstantial, faery place; That is fit home for Thee! III. A NIGHT-PIECE. THE sky is overcast With a continuous cloud of texture close, So feebly spread that not a shadow falls, Chequering the ground, from rock, plant, tree, or tower. At length a pleasant instantaneous gleam Startles the pensive traveller as he treads His lonesome path, with unobserving eye Bent earthwards; he looks up-the clouds are split Asunder, and above his head he sees The clear moon, and the glory of the heavens. |